Posts Tagged ‘Record label’

Dw. Dunphy On… Criticism

I think you’ve gotten us all wrong, and it’s time to set the record straight.

I’m not going to say there isn’t a contingent of malcontents in the field of criticism, because that would be a lie. There are plenty of people who got into the game because of a grudge against that which they’ve chosen to review. I once knew a movie critic, a local guy for a local newspaper, who frequently and regularly savaged the films he saw. It didn’t matter what it was — comedy, drama, animation, universally lauded, universally panned, the danger money was on him trashing the subject. In the meantime, he shopped spec scripts to agents and sent off treatments to studios. The more he sent, the more he was rejected. The more he was rejected, the nastier his criticism became. His reportage was venomous, like hate notes from a spurned lover.

That, right there, is the underlying truth. Even though that writer was an exception to the rule, approaching everything with aforethought disappointment, most of us critics don’t and it is because we’re still in love, if not with the media of our choosing then with the promise that’s always there. Somewhere in our adolescent lives, we stumbled into a movie theater and saw something that set our eyes on fire, made the blood flow a little faster, gave us something we hadn’t experienced up to that point. For me, it was music and I can’t very well say when it first caught on. Was it my mother’s records of The Coasters Greatest Hits, or The Fifth Dimension or even “Cathy’s Clown” by The Everly Brothers? Was it Dad crooning along to Sinatra and Perry Como on those long, languid summer drives? Was it when we lived in that rental house and I played the 45 RPM record of E.L.O.’s “Can’t Get It Out Of My Head” until the sunset, and I stared at that beige United Artists record label spin ’round and ’round? Was it that weird, unsteady feeling I got when the right chords were strung along, exploding into a surprising and pleasant direction? There is a love there that is almost impossible to adequately describe, but is there in most critics. (more…)

Letter from the Editor: Radio is Dying, but Music Has “One Life to Live”

one_life_to_live_logo

I try to do right, I try to do right, because I only got, only got, only got, only got…all that I have is one life to live.

These are the words that greeted viewers of the long-running ABC daytime serial One Life to Live when they tuned in for a pair of episodes last May, thanks to a remixed-and-revamped version of the show’s theme song performed by Snoop Dogg. Yes, that Snoop Dogg. You may have seen blurbs here and there about Snoop’s OLTL appearance and chalked it up to a joke, or some of the hard-hitting investigative journalism the Internet is known for, but no — Snoop really did tape a two-episode guest stint that had him rolling into the fictional Pennsylvania town of Llanview to perform at a bachelorette party. As far as musicians-on-scripted-TV crossovers go, it was both utterly ridiculous and eminently believable — of all the multiplatinum veteran rap artists in the world, who would be more likely than Snoop Dogg to take the microphone for a small club filled with screaming women in a random Philadelphia suburb? — and far less awkward than, say, the Counting Crows showing up to play in a bar during an episode of Boston Public:

As any Ricky Nelson fan could tell you, musicians have been taking advantage of television shows’ built-in audiences pretty much since the dawn of the medium. But the slow, painful death of Top 40 radio — hell, of radio in general, at least as a reliable conduit for new music — has given rise to a new breed of TV music supervisors who actively work to connect their viewers with songs and artists. One such music supervisor is One Life to Live’s Paul Glass, who has used his position with the show to help turn it into a surprisingly popular destination for musicians promoting new releases. Many of us still tend to think of daytime television as the last refuge for cheesy strings and organ music, but when Mary J. Blige booked an appearance on One Life to Live in 2006 — and enjoyed a 40% bump in sales the following week — OLTL quickly became the Ed Sullivan Show of the soaps, with Glass booking and producing a succession of artists that now includes Lifehouse, Nelly Furtado, Simply Red, Erykah Badu, Timbaland (with the loathsome OneRepublic), and, uh, Puddle of Mudd (you can’t win ‘em all). (more…)

Letter from the Editor: Tuning Out the Static

200420350-001I miss buying an album and lying on the floor for three days and going over it with a magnifying glass. I still go to the record store and spend hours there and buy a big bag of CDs. –Stevie Nicks from a recent interview with Rolling Stone

I think most music lovers over the age of, say, 25 can feel Stevie’s pain. Our readership skews slightly older here, so I think I can say with confidence that my early listening experiences mirrored many of yours — hours spent poring over an album’s artwork (either vinyl or cassette, natch), reading the fine print in the credits, memorizing musicians’ names, looking for hidden meaning in the lyrics. (Or just trying, and failing, to understand them at all.) Each major label had a different feel to me back then — from the cool blues of Reprise’s distinctive cassettes to the cheap, bare-bones packaging of MCA’s titles. While other kids my age were diagramming sentences, watching Nightmare on Elm Street movies, and requesting Bon Jovi on our local Top 40 stations, I was learning names like Joe Chemay, Jeff Bova, and Judd Miller.

And although music was portable back then — I never started my walk to school without my Walkman — it wasn’t the bite-sized commodity it is now; if you bought an album, you were probably going to develop more than a passing acquaintance with its contents, whether or not you liked every song. This happened for two reasons: One, because fast-forwarding through a track was a tedious, inexact process that sometimes took half as long as just listening to the damn song; and two, if you spent $10 to $15 on an album, you tended to feel like you needed to spend a little time with it.

I’ve talked before about how I feel like the advent of the CD sort of destroyed our relationship with music — how the ability to push through a song with a single tap of a button, and let a machine randomize an album’s running order, snapped the first tether between us and any kind of consistently deep emotional response to a song. But that isn’t what this column is about — not really, anyway. Today, I want to talk about where snapping that tether has led us — specifically, to a place where we can carry music with us literally everywhere we go, but really listening to it is damn near impossible.

I know my perspective as a music consumer isn’t totally unique, but I think my progression — from a typical ’80s kid who bought albums sparingly (and listened to them for years on end), to a writer who spent the late ’80s and early ’90s gorging on scads of free music (and discovering much of it wasn’t very good), to a thirtysomething critic with 200,000-odd mp3s in his library and an inability to remember enough favorite albums to fill out the latest Facebook meme — reflects the way our relationship with music has changed, and how our untrammelled access to cheap or free songs and albums has backfired on us, specifically those of us who really love music enough to spend time seeking it out. (more…)

Touch And Go Records: Certainly The Second Part

Touch and Go RecordsIn sudden and shocking fashion, it was announced today that Touch And Go Records, the venerable Chicago label, would be closing down its distribution wing and, at least for the moment, will no longer be releasing new music.

Touch And Go Distribution, formerly Southern Distribution, moved labels like Merge, Drag City, Thrill Jockey, as well as their own Touch And Go imprint and subsidiary Quarterstick Records. Among the Touch And Go label roster, bands like Slint, The Jesus Lizard, Calexico, Brainiac, The Dirty Three, Urge Overkill found their audiences during their association, with some staying on even when big label money called.

The blame falls, of course, on the bad economy and the ever-dominant digital market making physical product less and less financially viable. While a return to releasing new music may yet happen (in fact a couple of releases are still slated to come out) it is all dependent on a market recovery, something that most analysts are not counting on. Essentially, this could well be the end of one of independent music’s cornerstone institutions.

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The Popdose Guide to Peter Himmelman, Part Two

When last we left Peter Himmelman, he was leaving (or being pushed out of) the major-label world, and heading for indier pastures. Far from signaling an end to his career — or even a real slowdown in his hectic release schedule — this move seemed instead to provoke a flood of new Himmelman music.

The five albums we’ll cover in Part Two of our Himmelman Guide may not seem like a whole lot, but they’re really just the tip of the iceberg. For reasons of space and time, we won’t be covering two children’s albums (My Fabulous Plum and My Lemonade Stand), four odds & sods collections (From the Himmelvaults, volumes 1-4), or any of the Emmy-nominated incidental music he’s written for television. Not to mention any of the other cool stuff to be found at his official site.

Clearly, the man has been gifted with an impressive work ethic. But how does the work itself hold up? Let’s go find out.


Stage Diving (1996)
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Peter Himmelman - Stage Diving

Himmelman dealt with his new free-agent status the same way a lot of other artists do; namely, he released a stopgap live album.

I have never been to a Peter Himmelman concert, but by most accounts, they’re not to be missed — he’s known for doing anything and everything to make sure his guests get their money’s worth, from doing impromptu second sets on the sidewalk outside the venue, to inviting patrons out to a post-concert, after-midnight lakeside show, to making up songs on the spot by request. To the extent that this can be said about an artist few people know of, Himmelman’s live act has acquired something approaching legendary status.

Does this come across in Stage Diving? Eh, not really. It’s a good live record, sure, but it draws mainly from Himmelman’s Epic releases, which benefited from fairly “live” production in the first place; the thrill of hearing a great song liberated from a weak studio recording is part of what makes a live album essential, and that doesn’t enter into the equation here. Moreover, there’s only so much of the live experience’s magic that can translate to an audio recording; a lot of it often rests on the interplay between band members, and again, that doesn’t really enter into the equation here.

That being said, up until the release of Himmelman’s recent best-of, Stage Diving stood as the only thing resembling a career-spanning overview for the artist, and these are all fine recordings in their own right. His stage banter is mercifully brief and generally witty, he’s got a gift for feeling the temperature of an audience, and — on “Closer” (download) — he even throws in some passable freestyle rap. Not to mention that this version of “Been Set Free” (download) might even surpass the original.


My Best Friend Is a Salamander (1997)
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Given the overall seriousness of his body of work, a person could be forgiven for regarding the idea of a Peter Himmelman children’s album with a certain degree of skepticism. Certainly, few who had only listened to his studio albums could have foreseen the degree of silliness Himmelman would display on My Best Friend Is a Salamander — or guessed it would lead to a critically well-received parallel career.

We won’t cover the sequels here, but if you listen to Salamander, you get the idea. There’s wonderful, life-affirming stuff the whole family can enjoy, like “You’ll Always Be You to Me” (download), and goofy kid’s stuff like “Larry’s A Sunflower Now” (download). In short, it beats the hell out of sentimental treacle like those Kenny Loggins Pooh Corner records.


Love Thinketh No Evil (1999)
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Himmelman emerged from the longest between-album layoff of his career with Love Thinketh No Evil, a more rock-oriented, sonically adventurous collection than he’d ever attempted. He was rewarded with commercial indifference equally as resounding as any that had greeted his other releases, which is weirdly fitting; it’s just as good as its predecessors, and maybe even better.

The album kicks off with the noisy, vaguely industrial-ish “Eyeball” (download), but for the most part, Thinketh’s experimentalism is a matter of slight degrees. Songs like “Checkmate” (download) and “Forgiveness Shining” (download) wouldn’t have sounded out of place on any other Himmelman album — which is to say, they come from deep places, they’re written with a sharp, empathic eye, and more often than not, they hit the listener right where it counts.

What sets Thinketh apart from other Himmelman albums is the production, which is — comparatively speaking, anyway — fairly dense; certainly, it’s busier than anything he’d recorded since Synesthesia. Where that album was victimized by ’80s overkill, however, Love Thinketh No Evil benefits from the added noise. Guests include Chris Vrenna, Mike Elizondo, Lee Thornberg, and Corey Sipper (whatever happened to her, anyway?)

All of this was no doubt helped along by the fact that Himmelman had signed with Six Degrees Records; had he stayed there, it’s tempting to wonder what a healthy production budget and smart A&R might have done for his future releases. As it turned out, unfortunately, Thinketh was his sole effort for the label.


Unstoppable Forces (2004)
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Peter Himmelman - Unstoppable Forces

For many artists, there comes a point when things like fancy packaging and intricate production need to fall by the wayside in the interest of simply keeping things going. For Peter Himmelman, this point is marked by Unstoppable Forces, a collection of songs as stripped down as its predecessor’s were built up. From the looks-like-it-was-taken-with-a-cameraphone cover photo to the bare-bones arrangements and production, Unstoppable is strictly a no-frills affair.

To some fans, the album was a bit of a letdown; while only Skin was a true concept album, each of his previous releases can be viewed as following a certain theme, be it sonic or lyrical. In contrast, Unstoppable is, for better or worse, really just a collection of songs. There’s certainly nothing wrong with that, but particularly after a five-year wait, it’s understandable that some listeners would be disappointed.

The songs themselves are predictably well-written, passionately performed, and focused on matters of the soul. Leadoff track “The Deepest Part” (download) sums up, in under three minutes, Himmelman as a songwriter; “The Scent of Autumn Burning” (download) takes a little longer, but does the same.

I suppose what it boils down to is that a guy in Himmelman’s career marker is, regardless of sales, most likely finished with making grand, career-defining statements. They’ve dug their grooves (or trenches, as the case may be), and subsequent releases are more about mining their richer depths than about exploring new vistas. Hence, an album like Unstoppable Forces: a little of this, a little of that, and at the end of the day — even if it doesn’t shatter the pillars of heaven — not a bad addition to the catalog.


Imperfect World (2005)
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Peter Himmelman - Imperfect World

Being that they were released only a year apart, there’s a certain degree of similarity between Imperfect World and Unstoppable Forces: two-word titles; somewhat painful packaging design; basic production. To put things in perspective, they’re as closely related as any two back-to-back Himmelman releases since Gematria and Synesthesia.

That being said, Synesthesia wasn’t a sequel to Gematria, and neither is Imperfect World really Unstoppable Forces II.

Imperfect is a little punchier and rawer than its predecessor, for one thing; it was recorded with a band that included Pete Thomas on drums, so there’s no small amount of muscle to the rhythm tracks, and Himmelman — who handles all the guitars — has never played with more intensity. It’s a good deal darker, for another. The title track (download), in particular, was inspired by the unexpected death of Himmelman’s sister, and other songs, like “Kneel Down” (download), raise the stakes on the endless spiritual struggle that has taken place in his solo work since the first note of This Father’s Day.

Like Unstoppable Forces, this set of songs acts as a deepening and a refinement of what Himmelman has said and done before — as good an indication as any that fans can safely expect his work to continue to improve with age. He was an old soul in a young man’s body when he cut his first solo album twenty years ago; now, with experiences to match his insight, he has a truly special gift to offer the patient listener.

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